


little darling, sing with me

by emmylou (neotericke)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 15:03:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2816456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neotericke/pseuds/emmylou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I know, you're waiting for an update of the fake-dating fic, but I got this idea in my head and I had to get it out. I wanted to try a different format with limited dialogue. Lots of internal stuff. I dunno. Tell me if it works. Thanks for reading :)</p></blockquote>





	little darling, sing with me

2 o'clock in the morning. Bellamy had gotten off work late thanks to some stupid brawl about nothing important. He was supposed to be off at midnight, but the next shift needed the help separating the warring football fans and cleaning up the aftermath. 

He was exhausted and furious and frustrated and exhausted. He just wanted to get back home, take a hot shower, and pass out. Hopefully, in that order. 

His air conditioner was on the fritz again, so he had the windows down as he drove, blasting rock music to stay awake.

Taking the shortest route home meant taking a shortcut through one of the nicer neighborhoods in towns. _Her_ neighborhood. The most direct route took her right past her house. 

Just being on that street was enough to trigger flashbacks. The instant he turned onto it, a flood of memories overtook him. 

Buying boxed wine from the gas station because they were too lazy to go to the liquor store. Her holding the box in her arms, waltzing around the kitchen to "class it up." Arguing that it couldn't be very classy if she was only wearing her underwear. 

Sitting on the fire escape of his apartment, distracting her while she tried to sketch him. Peppering her with kisses until she gave up and kissed him back, artwork forgotten for the time being.

Lying in bed for an entire Saturday, reading, sketching, making love. Groaning about not being productive but doing absolutely nothing about it. 

Arguing about anything and everything. Screaming and fighting, then laughing and kissing two seconds later. Constantly teasing each other, challenging each other, loving each other.

Her blonde hair. The freckle above her upper lip that he just couldn't resist kissing. Her rose perfume. The way she raised a single eyebrow when he thought he was being clever but she didn't. The look she got on her face when anyone doubted her.

Her voice. _"I hate you_." A click. A dail tone.

He shouldn't have said what he did, but it was too late. He'd tried to apologize. She didn't want to hear it. Besides, it was easier to let her go than it was to be vulnerable. Why make an effort if you only get hurt in the end? He'd been alone before. He could handle it.

He passed her house and couldn't help staring the whole way. Was she home? Would she be in her sweats, bun on top of her head, studying medical jargon? Would she be sketching, tongue sticking out slightly the way it always did when she was concentrating? A light was on in her window, so he knew she wasn't asleep. 

Maybe... He shook his head at the stupid, optimistic thought that had popped up out of nowhere. She wouldn't talk to him. 

"It's in the past," he muttered to himself, trying to erase her face from his mind. 

It was too late. She was gone, and they could never got back to the way they were.  

* * *

2 o'clock in the morning. Clarke was up cramming for an exam. It wasn't for another week, but med school was infinitely more stressful than undergrad had been, and she coped by studying excessively. 

Her street was usually pretty quiet at night. She knew how lucky she was to have her own place. Her parents had given her enough money to cover a quarter of the house payment. Clarke had used her own money and loans for the rest. Having a mortgage wasn't ideal, but it was better than living in a cramped apartment on campus. 

There was a flash of light. She looked up in time to see headlight, but not in time to see the car. It seemed like a truck. It reminded her of him.

Staying up late with flash cards, using his body as a "study aid." Poking and tickling him until an all-out tickle war had erupted, leaving both of them gasping for air on her bed. Him suggesting that they study "anatomy" next. Gasping of another kind, soon following. 

Shopping for groceries together. Putting back all the junk food he threw in the cart. Climbing in and convincing him to push her. Him running, getting in trouble for almost knocking over a huge display of soda cans. Jokingly scolding him for the rest of the day. 

Talking about the future, whether if be together or not. Discussing kids and if they wanted them. She wanted one or two. He wanted half a dozen. Throwing out names and laughing at his stuffy-sounding suggestions from Ancient Rome. 

Fighting, just like usual, except... not. Him using her father, Wells, Finn against her. Reminding her of every past mistake. Implying that it was all her fault. "This is on you, princess."

A phone call. An apology, too little too soon. Hanging up, throwing her phone. Sobbing for hours.

His hair, the curls that her fingers constantly got tangled in. His tan skin, the constellation of freckles across his nose. The way his smirk fell into a smile. The way his mouth looked when it curved around her name.

If she was being totally honest, she didn't hate him. Not even a little bit. It had been a long time. She'd had time to hate him and stew, and time to get tired of it. He was still in the wrong, but she had been in the wrong plenty of times before. He always knew how to push her buttons, but god did she push them right back.

She wished their last conversation hadn't ended the way it did, that she hadn't hung up the phone on him. She wished they could go back and fix everything that had gone wrong. She wished he knew how much she missed him. She missed him so much, she wasn't even angry anymore. She wished she could tell him all the things she never said. 

But above all else, she wished he was there, with her. Just one more time. 

* * *

2 o'clock in the morning. 48 hours and one hesitant voicemail later. 

Their first date had been on the boardwalk. She'd beaten him in nearly every carnival game, then teased him mercilessly. She gave him the giant elephant she won so he wouldn't be too upset. He grew determined to win something for her, and had absolutely zero luck. At least, until they reached the "guess your weight" guy, who was ten pounds off, earning him a tiny lion. She'd claimed it was a thousand times better than her elephant.

She was waiting at the very end of the pier, waiting for him to show. Wondering if he would show. She'd contemplated bringing that little lion, but in the end decided against it. It was just a stuffed animal. 

She watched the waves coming in and out. She was too anxious to truly appreciate the peaceful scene, but she continued to watch the sea. Better than watching the boardwalk for him. Better to pretend she was here for the ocean than him. It would make it less heartbreaking when he eventually didn't show. 

She heard a soft noise, straining to hear better. It was rhythmic and heavy, thudding closer to her. She turned halfway, peering out of the corner of her eye. She didn't want to get her hopes up only to have them crushed again. It could be anyone. Anything.

But it was him. It was _him_ in his faded leather jacket that he'd lent her so many times. She could still remember the way it smelled when she covered her face with the sleeves that were way too long for her.

He wasn't walking. He was running. He was running back to her, as if no time had passed, as if they had never fought. Sometimes it seemed like that, after some of their smaller fights. Neither of them would apologize, but it would be okay. She didn't want this time to be like that. She wanted him to _know_.

She couldn't wait any longer. She ran to meet him half-way. "Bellamy!" she cried. She hadn't meant to yell, but she couldn't keep it in.

He heard her voice before he saw her face. He knew it was her before she'd spoken. He'd know that shock of blond hair anywhere. He saw her running towards him and picked up the pace. 

He remembered when she'd made him watch _The Notebook_. He'd complained the entire time, told her it was the cheesiest thing in the world, and totally denied shedding a single tear when it was over. But he'd cried. 

He remembered the way they ran and jumped into each other's arms. She had sighed, "the most romantic thing ever." And he'd raised his eyebrow, saying something about the fact that the guy was forced to carry all her weight, not to mention absorb the shock of her flinging herself at him without falling over.

But for all his complaining, he kind of wished she'd jump into his arms. He couldn't imagine another way for them to meet after all this ridiculous running. What, would they slow to a walk, then a stop, then an awkward silence? They'd already come so far.

Her voicemail, asking him to meet her at the start. Instantly knowing what she meant. Hoping he knew what it implied. 

She didn't disappoint.  She used her momentum to leap, to spring forward into his arms. He caught her, easily. His biceps, while being a great study for art, were there for a reason. 

She wrapped her legs around his waist and he spun them around. She was crying and smiling and he couldn't look any more. The more he saw her cry, the more he wanted to. 

If his hands weren't busy holding her up, he would have caressed her face. As if reading his thoughts, she placed her hands on his cheeks. She just held him, staring at him. Almost as if she was waiting for something.

"I'm sorry," she breathed, moving her face closer, but stopping at the last second.

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

"I wish-" she began, but was cut off by his lips on hers.

If kisses could talk, his was a monologue. He had so many things to tell her- I'm sorry, I missed you, I should have fought for you, can we go back?

He tightened his arms, pulling her body even closer to his. She clutched his shoulders, pulling her chest flush against his. She locked her ankles behind his back. She was as close as she could get to him and it wasn't close enough. 

She was insistent, her lips aggressive on his. He responded softly, folding to her every whim. He wanted to let her down, to free his hands to touch her. Somewhere. Anywhere. Everywhere.

As if reading his mind, she dropped to the ground, breaking the kiss for only a moment. He instantly took advantage. His hands were in her hair, on her face, her hips, her ass. His touch was soft, delicate, sending shivers down her spine. 

She broke away. "Bellamy, I-"

"I know. I just-"

"I know."

And they did. They'd always had a way of knowing what the other was thinking. No other couple they knew had silent conversations the way they did, with just body language and eye contact.

Part of her wanted to talk. She felt like they _should_ talk. Too much had happened not to. But he didn't need any prompting to forgive her. She didn't even need to ask for forgiveness. It was just there. 

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to remember this moment forever. She told herself to never let this go again. Nothing could be worth losing him again. He was a part of her. He always would be. She could live for thousands of years, but still would never be able to forget him.

His thumb brushed across her cheeks, and he pressed a kiss to each eyelid.

"I love you," he whispered.

"I love you more," she breathed, still unable to open her eyes. she was frozen in this space, in this moment in time.

He pressed another kiss to her lips, this one soft and sweet, and she knew, instantly, that nothing else could measure up. 

This. _This_ was a relationship worth fighting for. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I know, you're waiting for an update of the fake-dating fic, but I got this idea in my head and I had to get it out. I wanted to try a different format with limited dialogue. Lots of internal stuff. I dunno. Tell me if it works. Thanks for reading :)


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